


Just a Touch

by SKSuncloud



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Ineffable Husbands (Good Omens), M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-12
Updated: 2019-09-12
Packaged: 2020-10-17 04:27:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,064
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20614988
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SKSuncloud/pseuds/SKSuncloud
Summary: This was my little head-canon for what happens after they get on the bus before we see them again, since they were already body-swapped. Just a short, fluffy little first kiss fic <3





	Just a Touch

Aziraphale and Crowley took the bus straight to Crowley’s front door, with the help of a little infernal intervention. Crowley’s flat was elegant, but stark, and it occurred to Aziraphale that it had been a long time since he’d last come around for a visit. Wasn’t Crowley always coming over to his shop? It had felt too conspicuous for him to return the favor before, but of course that didn’t matter now. 

He stepped inside and admired the contrast of color from Crowley’s plants and the touch of elaborate furniture he’d certainly kept for the past few centuries.  
Crowley sauntered past him, then spun around. 

“So, body swap?”

“Ah! Yes. How… how shall we accomplish it?”

Crowley raised his right hand and wiggled his fingers in the air. “I believe all it takes is a touch.” He dropped his hand immediately after and shrugged, his lips rolling together and one shoulder slouching below the other. Aziraphale liked the way Crowley moved like his body was barely put together right. He tried to hide a smile while Crowley muttered, “Shouldn’t be too difficult.”

He considered for a moment how to phrase it, then finally asked, “Does it matter what kind of touch?”

“What do you mean ‘Does it matter what kind of touch?’ it’s just a touch it shouldn’t matter. We just make contact, transfer, done! I’ve never done it before mind you, but it’s not bloody rocket science we should be able to figure it out, come on.” He reached out a hand, palm up, fingers spread.

“I mean…” It wasn’t like him to get shy, at least, he didn’t consider himself shy. Reserved maybe, withdrawn, inexperienced perhaps, but not shy! Not really. He took a short breath. “I was thinking perhaps we could try a different kind of touch?”

He glanced up to see Crowley’s lips part, the slouch of his shoulders change, his hand waver. 6,000 years they’d known each other, and he knew Crowley understood. He knew he had been the slow one all this time, never ready to take a chance. 

Aziraphale wanted to enjoy the things humans enjoyed, it had just never felt like the right time. There was always Heaven to think about and how it would look and if they were caught and what might happen. Besides, the feelings were new, relatively so. 

But he had been slow. He’d seen that look come over Crowley so many times and had pretended not to notice, but he could count the times now, looking back. He had been so slow to understand them.

“Oh, right,” Crowley breathed. He lowered his hand and wiped the palm against his hip, then stepped forward.

Aziraphale stepped forward as well. A part of him still felt that he shouldn’t be doing this, that he should chicken out once again say it was a good joke, but he wouldn’t do that to Crowley now. The demon was taking off his glasses and hanging them on the neck of his shirt and his eyes weren’t quite meeting Aziraphale’s. His breathing had changed.

“You were thinking more like,” Crowley’s voice trailed away as he tilted his head and leaned forward slightly.

Suddenly the room felt very warm indeed. 

“Yes,” he murmured, letting his hand trail up to keep Crowley’s face steady as his heels lifted from the floor. Heaven forgive me, he thought briefly. “Something more like that.”

Their lips touched. It was such a soft thing. For all the time they’d spent together, he’d rarely touched Crowley. Mostly he enjoyed his company, his snide jokes, his thoughtfulness and kind heart (though Crowley would never admit to having such a thing). This was something far more human. Something angels shouldn’t want.

But then, he wasn’t really an angel any longer, was he? Now he was just him, standing here kissing the demon he couldn’t bear to be without. 

Their lips parted and his heels returned to the ground, though his body felt like it was floating high up into the rafters of the room. He smiled, then looked down at himself.

“Oh! Goodness! I forgot we were meant to switch!” He glanced up into those golden eyes that were looking at him with a hunger that made his heart flip. He cleared his throat and Crowley’s gaze softened.

“That’s okay, we can give it another go,” Crowley’s hand was upon his cheek before he could decide whether or not it was appropriate to protest. 

In another breath, Crowley’s lips were pressed to his again and nothing else seemed to matter anymore. Not their possible coming demise, not the near escape of the end of the world and all-out war. Nothing but Crowley kissing him there in that room in a moment that could very well stretch till the end of eternity and still be too short.

He melted into the touch, willing it to last a little longer as Crowley’s body shifted, moving closer. He gasped, stealing the breath straight from Crowley’s lips.

Oh, that’s right, we’re meant to change, he remembered at the last moment, and refocused on switching forms, on entering the body Crowley had inhabited for so many years. 

When he pulled away again, he was looking down at his own body which had only just been returned to him that very day. Crowley’s wide toothy grin spread over his own face and the voice he had been using said in Crowley’s tone, “Aww, and here I thought you’d let me try once more.”

Crowley scoffed and stepped back, nearly falling over the lank of Crowley’s limbs. Embarrassment swept through him. He’d initiated it, hadn’t he? But that was quite enough of kissing for one day. He felt flustered and dizzy, but maybe he could blame a bit of it on the body transfer. 

“I suppose you know my mannerisms,” he said, shakily, trying to lighten the heady mood that clung to the space between them.

“Very well,” Crowley-in-his-body whispered.

“Right. Good.” 

“Angel?”

It was so strange, watching himself say that in Crowley’s tone. What would he have done all those years without this demon around?

“Yes?”

That smirk wavered and Crowley averted Aziraphale’s eyes. “I’ve been waiting for that,” he said, softly.

Aziraphale straightened himself up, shifting himself into Crowley’s signature posture of a marionette ready at any second to come for your heart. He tried out the smirk. 

“So’ve I.”


End file.
